


every movement is a self improvement

by nanasleeps



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ALSO TW for mention of disgust towards food, Character Study, Galaxy Garrison, Keith's journey of self discovery, TW for mentions of child abuse, TW for very brief mention of death, hunk and keith friendship yayyy, just keith being a picky eater and reacting to food goo, keith has sensory overload and doesn't know how to cope, keith spends a lot of time in this throwing up, mentions of the, not like an ED, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasleeps/pseuds/nanasleeps
Summary: It's been so long since he'd been here, so long since he'd been surrounded by people and their constant chatter that it makes his head spin and stomach twist until. Well.  He's not sure when he started throwing up, not even sure how he got to the bathroom he's in, just knows that the lights are too bright and everything hurts.





	every movement is a self improvement

It's been so long since he'd been here, so long since he'd been surrounded by people and their constant chatter that it makes his head spin and stomach twist until. Well.  He's not sure when he started throwing up, not even sure how he got to the bathroom he's in, just knows that the lights are too bright and everything hurts.

He tries to ignore it, write it off as a reaction to flying after not for so long, but he knows something’s wrong. It's almost funny, going months on his own without acknowledging his problems, only for them to come back and slap him in the face.

_You can't be normal. You'll never be normal, Keith._

He feels like he's going crazy around the sixth time he finds himself collapsed over a toilet. He thinks his body might be shutting down in response to the food goo and tries to ignore the green piles like he really wants to, but the pang in his stomach that became all too familiar over his time in the dessert hurts too bad when it's _just right there._

So he finds himself eating it, eating other things too, despite the surge of disgust that flares up his back and crawls under his skin, endlessly tormenting him. He feels it burn in his wrists and fingertips as he brings the spoon to his mouth and he wants to stop, but the last time he'd gone without eating for a few days in the castle he'd quickly learned that he needed some form of sustenance to avoid passing out during training. He'd even gotten a speech about it from Coran, which just sounded like the regurgitated version of what everyone had told him all his life so he doesn't feel as bad for only half listening. He sits in the infirmary and waits for the drone of Coran’s voice to end before he exits and hides in his room, hands curled around biceps and staring wide eyed at the far wall.

He finally asks Allura if they can run a few tests, telling her he'd rather not go into much detail but he thinks there's something wrong with him. She says she understands, ushers him into a pod and the closed in walls makes the space under his sternum burn, but he swallows the pained sound when the machine starts up and the hum surrounds him. She orders a full body scan and the results show that everything’s fine, everything’s how it should be, which leaves Keith's skin crawling with the unknown.

"It may be something in your mind," she says in that always helpful tone of hers, giving Keith a pat on the knee. “I can order a scan if you want, but our Altean technology may not pick up on all known diagnosis’s common to humans,” she says, “Would you like to try?” He briefly considers it until the hum of the machine plays in the back of his mind and he shakes his head, getting up and leaving the med bay with a small thank you.

Her words do the opposite of help though, just pulls up old memories that hurt worse than hunger pains. _It's only in your mind, Keith_ he hears the school counselors, the social worker, the orphanage workers say in unison, painfully loud against his temple. _Quit acting crazy, why are you like this?_ annoyed foster parents yell at three in the morning, hard grip around his flailing wrists trying to stop him tantrum. _No one's tapping on your window, Keith. No one's watching you, Keith. No one's calling for you, Keith. No one's waiting for you, Keith. No one's here for you, Keith. No one's - no one's - no one's -_

Keith's not sure if it's his stomach or head or heart that hurts bad enough for him to throw up again.

xxx

Keith really thought he was starting to have it under control, could sense the crawling feeling and step away, calm down before anything could happen. He'd even started to get used to the other paladin's constant chatter, it no longer sending him into a spiraling bathroom session.

Of course, nothing ever works the way it's supposed to, not in his life. Go figure.

They're in the middle of a big diplomatic dinner with another planet, all situated around the long table. There's weird foods and drinks spread all about, the occupants of the table digging in happily. Lance is to his left, fork blazing, as he tears into strange looking dishes. Shiro's on his other side, calmly eating what he'd picked before he looks over to Keith's plate.

Keith knew it was rude to reject gifts given during diplomatic meetings, had it drilled into his many, _many_ times, but he'd barely managed to force himself to place a scoop of one of the dishes onto his plate, leaving himself to stare at it with his teeth clenched. His silverware sat unbothered to the side of his plate and he sits there, trying to not watch others eat because that would _really_ do him in.

 _Normally_ , he can force himself to eat, at least a few bites, but the table occupants are _so lou_ d and his armor is so tight and the artificial sunlight streaming in through the fake glass ceiling is burning his eyes and skin and he can feel it, can feel his skin starting to twitch and burn with the tale tell signs. It's all too much and Keith wants to _die,_ wants to be anywhere but here.

Shiro leans in and God, Keith never thought there'd be a too close with him, but it's _too clos_ e, close enough for his chest to constrict and breathing to halt.

"What's wrong? You should eat," he says, sounding very much like Shiro but those words are _not_ what Shiro would've said to him. Shiro would've said he'd understood, said no one can force him and that he'd cover for him if anyone commented on it, like he always did back at the Garrison.

And okay yeah, Keith knew that Shiro's memory was spotty, knew some pieces didn't fit with others and that gaps were there and weren't going away anytime soon, but _God,_ Keith hadn't expected so much of what he and Shiro had gone through to be gone. So many things that had brought then together no longer existed to him anymore, wiped away and replaced by trauma during a time that feels like so long ago and just like yesterday at the same time. For God's sake, the first time Shiro had _acknowledged_ him had been because of his picky eating and habits during his first year at the Garrison. So much of their friendship is due to the understanding approach Shiro took with Keith and it’s gone, like so many of the memories that they shared.

The comment pushes Keith over the edge, pushes him from the table so quickly his knees bump it and he can here Lance yell a scandalized "Hey!" and someone call after him, but he's already running, hand pressed so tightly over his mouth that he can feel his nails dig into his cheeks through his suit.

Keith manages to make it outside before his footing gets tangled and sends him to the ground. He's to the side of the building when he gags, the little food he'd had that day making its way up his throat. He dry heaves for several minutes, body shaking violently each time and it's cold outside but he feels like he's overheating, like he'll suffocate any moment. He calms his breathing for a minute before he sits back on his legs and rips his chest armor off, taking in gulps of air. He uses the building to help himself stand, pushes off and immediately heads towards the Castle.

 _Diplomacy be damned,_ he thinks, holding his chest piece in his left hand and letting it bounce against the back of his thigh. He walks straight to his room and throws the rest of the armor on the ground and strips off his suit, leaving it in a pile on the floor before he climbs into bed in nothing but his boxers, curls up as small as he can in the corner of his bed, and pulls the covers over his face to block out the world.

xxx

He stays in bed for the most part of the next day despite knowing that he shouldn't, knowing that the universe needs a paladin that's in top shape and not wallowing in his own self pity.

It's just. It's _hard_ to always be thinking of the universe, trying to figure out what makes a worthy paladin and what makes a waste of time. He's so run down most days but he knows that anything can happen at anytime and he's worked too goddamn hard to have it end because he's too much of a fuck up. He feels like a hypocrite lately, the words he said to Pidge about wanting to leave replaying in his head on days like these, only serving to make him feel worse.

It's with that mentality that he finally manages to leave his bed, rubbing at sore eyes from staying awake for most of the night.

He could hear the exact moment the others returned late at night, their voices echoing _so damn loudly_ that it hurt so bad, left Keith's head pounding and glazed eyes squeezed together tightly, hands pressed against his ears until he could cover the voices with ringing instead.

He wants to cover his ears now as he walks through the halls quietly, fully dressed and exhausted. He can hear them somewhere in the Castle and he really hopes he doesn't run into anyone, knows that if he does he'll just turn around and retreat back to his room like always. He takes the long way through the castle, taking back corridors just to avoid the kitchen and common room.

He makes it to the training room easily enough, starts a sim. It's not easy but he's not complaining, using his bayard to attack the bot and block what it can throw at him. He can feel the tensions in his limbs oozing out, which makes no sense because this is louder than everything else but it's just _one,_ not a thousand little voices and sounds merging until it sounds like screaming.

He gives up after two hours, lying on the floor after being knocked down. He breathes heavily, chest rising and falling quickly when he hears the door open. He hears his neck crack with how fast it whips to the side but he's too busy staring down Hunk to react to the slight pain.

Hunk stands in the doorway for a minute before stepping in, giving Keith a small smile. Keith starts to stand, starts to open his mouth to make some kind of excuse as to why he needs to leave when Hunk holds up at hand.

"It's cool, your good to stay. I just wanted to talk," he says before going to Keith on the floor.

He's not really sure how to react. He's still not completely verse in reading the kind man, not nearly enough for him to hear the hidden meaning behind his words _because there's always a hidden meaning behind every nice word_ , so he lifts a brow instead and waits.

"Look, I know Shiro said not to bother you and to let you open up about this whole," he pauses, gives a small wave over Keith, "thing you've got going on, but I don't think it's healthy to keep it bottled up and I don't know you as well as Shiro does, but I can tell you're not the opening up type so. Tell me what's up."

Keith's floored, first thought being _Shiro said that?_ followed by _Why the hell should I?_ but Hunk just stares at him. Keith stares back in silence, arms crossed defensively, before Hunk heaves out a sigh.

"Okay, I get that," he says, "How about I tell you something about me first? Will that make this easier?" Keith gives a half shrug; let's his eyes flicker to the door quick enough that he thinks Hunk doesn't see and starts making a plan of escape.

"So like, you know how everyone has something that makes them tick sometimes?" Keith nods slowly, staring into Hunk's earnest and open eyes. "Well, as much as I love being here with everyone and getting to meet new types of aliens, minus the ones who want to kill us, it's really... unsettling? At times," he pauses, letting Keith digest his words before leaning back on his hands. 

"As a kid, I was really sensitive to sounds and smells and things like that, and this whole situation feels like that sometimes. Things just get a little overbearing at times, to the point where I feel like I can't breathe? I've gotten better at handling it all, using cooking or repairs as a means to distract myself, but it's still something I've got to work on."

There's silence for a few minutes, Keith mulling over Hunk's words and Hunk watching on in silent patience. It takes him a few tries, but Keith eventually is able to get words to form as his eyebrows slowly knit. Hunk had opened up to him about his weakness and Keith felt compelled to do the same.

"I, uh... can relate to you about the sounds and smells thing? But for me, it's like... touches and lights too? I don't really know," Keith starts, trying to sort through the confusion in his mind. "Smells have always messed with me, I have a lot of trouble with... eating, because a lot of things are either nauseating to smell or look at. Sometimes I feel like... my skin is crawling? Like there's something moving under my skin and I can't get it out, and when people touch me while that's happening it, well, it feels like they’re hitting me? And I feel like the ceiling is caving in on me _all the time_ , Hunk, and all the creaks of the castle make it _so much worse_ and I don't know what to do or why I'm this way. I always got told it was in my head growing up and it makes me feel _fucking psychotic_ but I-"

"Woah, woah, woah, hold the thought train," Hunk interrupts, leaning forward into Keith slightly. "You're _not_ psychotic. There's nothing wrong with being sensitive to senses and you can work through this. Sensory overload is a pain but it's manageable-" 

"Sensory what?" Keith asks, frozen. 

"Sensory overload," Hunk repeats. "It's when your senses build up over time and kinda crash down onto you, or something like that. It can feel like a lot of things and is typically slightly different from person to person, but, uh, yeah. What you described sounds like sensory overload."

"Sensory overload," Keith mumbles, eyes falling to his hands. The description fits what he's been feeling for years. “That uh, actually makes a lot of sense, I guess. So this is normal?”

Hunk shrugged. “As normal as it can be. A lot of people have it and never know, so there’s no telling how many are diagnosed versus undiagnosed. The whole key to handling it is understanding it though, so you need to find something that can ease it. I started cooking to calm my nausea with it because being able to identify scents is grounding for me. Engineering takes my mind off of it completely, since it takes full attention to not mess something up. Do you have anything that’s worked so far?”

Keith thinks back to his earlier training session and the relief it’d brought to his fragile psyche, slowly nodding. “Yeah… yeah, I think I do.” Hunk beams, pushing off the ground to stand.

“That’s great! Having something to help you through it is better than nothing,” he holds a hand out to Keith, who hesitantly takes it and lets the other pull him to standing. “I promised Lance I’d do some repairs on Blue, so I’ve got to go. It was nice talking with you, Keith,” he said, dropping his hand to give a small wave. Keith waves back with much less enthusisiam, watching him step out the door before turning back.

“And Keith,” he starts, looking across the distance to match his gaze with Keith’s, “If you ever need anything, we’re here for you. Don’t forget that, okay?” He leaves without waiting for Keith’s response, the sliding doors closing behind him.

xxx

It’s later that night that Keith builds up the courage to talk to someone, ending up in front of Shiro’s door. He’s about to knock when a voice calls from down the hall, halting his motion.

“Keith?” Shiro says, walking up to the other. His shock of white hair is bright even in the dimmed hallway lights, matching the smile he gives Keith. He reaches the door and pauses, taking in the raised hand and reaching across to press his hand against the scanner on the wall, unlocking the room. “What’s up?” He asks, leading the way into his room, looking back to make sure Keith followed him in. He sits on the bed, patting the space beside him.

The scene looks too entirely like one from back at the Garrison, minus the new arm and hair. It reminds Keith of all the times he’d barge into Shiro’s room fuming or on the verge of tears, so angry with school and life that it took everything for Shiro to convince him not to give up. It pulls the lump from his stomach into his throat so he shakes his head, instead leaning against the wall by the door.

“I talked to Hunk today…,” he starts, trailing off as he looks at Shiro. He quirks an eyebrow back, a silent gesture to _go on_ , so Keith does. “We talked about my, uh, behavior lately.”

“Keith,” Shiro starts, both brows raised now. “You don’t have to talk about anything if it upsets you, okay?”

Keith cards a hand through his hair, breaking the eye contact with a soft huff. “ _I know,_ Shiro. I know that. But I just – I feel like not talking about it is what got me in this situation? That ignoring my problems has only made them worse and I _want_ to talk about it.”

He looks back at Shiro, sure he resembles a kicked puppy in that moment and sure that this is something he needs to do. Shiro’s quiet for a moment before releasing a breath, nodding. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

So they do. It feels like the whole ordeal takes hours, that they’ve spent the whole night talking. Shiro convinces Keith to sit on the bed after a while, Shiro leaning against the wall by his pillows and Keith at the foot of it, head reclined against the wall and eyes tracing imaginary patterns on the ceiling as his mouth moves, words leaving his lips without much thought. He’s scared if he thinks too hard he’ll hold back, filter himself and make this whole event pointless.

They talk about everything. From his childhood, filling in pieces that Shiro had forgotten and telling him new ones, the tremble in his voice and the steeliness of Shiro’s eyes not escaping him. They talk about the Garrison, before, after, and during Shiro’s time in his life. Keith manages to talk about the dessert, the hot, isolating dessert, detailing how the Garrison’s constant chatter hurt but the silence _burned,_ made him raw and vulnerable and think that his life was ending. He leaves out the constant hunger, the fear that festered from childhood to young adulthood that whispered _you’re going to die as you live: always alone_ into his ears, always in time with the rush of harsh wind that hurt worse than slaps from foster parents. He leaves out how the unknown hum of the Blue Lion made him feel mad, kept him up at night and day and drilled into his brain harder than his nails into his scalp. He leaves out how every moment felt like hell, how he’d dreamed of ending everything, but feared that death would bring more pain than living in hell. Those wounds still feel too raw, like pushing them out of his mind will resemble pouring rubbing alcohol over them.

Shiro’s eyes held understanding throughout it all, though. It feels like he could hear the words Keith couldn’t say out loud, recognizes them over the tremble and hoarse scrape of Keith’s voice against his throat. It’s not until the dimmed castle lights are starting to glow again that he runs out of words, eyes wide and staring at blank ceiling panel like it holds the answer to why life has been the way it has.

He doesn’t startle when Shiro puts a hand on top of his, too emotionally exhausted to do much more than roll his head towards the other. He doesn’t say anything, his other arms circling around Keith’s shoulders and pulling him into a loose hug, chin resting on top of Keith’s dark hair. They sit like that for a minute, the grip of Keith’s bicep holding all his pieces together. It’s not much longer after that that they both stand, exiting Shiro’s room.

Keith braces himself as they step into the kitchen, welcomed by the hum of good mornings. The usual anxiety that follows the grouped voices is quiet, far more diminished than it’s been in months. Keith can feel his limbs heavy with fatigue, knows the circles under his eyes have deepened, but he finally feels at peace, surrounded by his team.

His family.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in the depths of my old wattpad account from before I started well i'm not the moon and decided to finish it  
> this was my original character study for keith, before moon :^) not quite sure how i forgot about it lol.  
> I'm infamous for using song lyrics for titles and this one's is from 'be yourself' by flatsound  
> also sorry if the ending seemed sheithy, it really wasn't supposed to. i just cherish the bond between Keith and Shiro a lot okayyyy
> 
> if you liked this, check out my other work, well i'm not the moon! thank ya


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